A Dark Past and a Bright Future
by BIG Z1776
Summary: A direct spin-off of UnkownNemesis98's story Red vs Blue Authors Edition. This is the background of Big Z, a soon to be mentioned character in the story whose that I asked to evaluate on for the purpose of getting better idea of his character. This is how he came to be a part of the Red Team and a little bit about himself.


**Okay, this is something I just thought up after being stuck in a serious writer's block and so I decided that the block needed to be destroyed and this is what came out. After reading and applying to be a part of the popular story Red vs Blue Authors' Edition I wanted to write a quick one shot about my character. So here we are, enjoy.**

**A Dark Past and a Bright Future**

The Pelican shook as it soared through the sky, plowing through thick cloud banks on its way to as yet undisclosed location. There was only a single six foot nine inch (Six foot three inches without armor, the armor adds six inches) armored figure in the back of the Pelican, sitting in hunched over position staring out the back of the craft at nothing, deep in thought. His armor was an equal coloration of red and black tigerstripes all over the plates of his solid MJOLNIR Mk. VI armor, or at least the Red Army variant of the armor that was without shields or the other expensive perks that the armor was known for. His helmet rested beside him on the seat to his left, colored identically to his armor, its Mk. VI ancestry clear to see with its gold visor making it the face of the user when it was sealed onto the wearer's armor. A massive ancient Bowie Knife from Earth's 19th Century sat in a black metal sheath on his left shoulder, begging to be used. An SRS-99 sniper rifle colored jet black sat next to the helmet and an M6C/SOCOM or Automag colored black sat magnetized to the soldiers thigh, awaiting use. His face was contorted into that of a man remembering his past, a past he wanted to forget. His dark brown crew cut hair was in perfect military order and his face bore a scar along his right jaw from a knife wound sustained in combat. His hazel eyes were locked onto some invisible object as his mind wandered.

His name was a simple one, Big Z, or as his now dead friends knew him as, Z. He was the last of his kind, the last of the Red Army Tiger Platoon, the deadliest unit in the Red Army, which meant they were on par with a UNSC Army trooper, the lowliest of statuses in the elite branches of the UNSC. They were the outcasts of the UNSC, transferred to Red Army to fight the rising threat of the Blue Army which had become quite a threat as they'd all been told in their briefing into Red Army. From then on they'd been fighting, and winning, but at a cost, their fifteen men and women strong unit was whittled down to just a mere five within two weeks. But they took pride in their work, at least until a week ago when they'd been sent to the biggest and baddest of the Blue Bases, their so called "Command." Their unit was tasked to eliminate the source of the Blues' command structure and so they had gone to their ultimate doom.

_One Week Ago_

"This is it team," Sergeant Peterson whispered to the gathered unit of five Tigers.

"You mean we're going home?" one of the others said sarcastically, drawing a much needed laugh.

"You wish Cervantes," Peterson said back as the laughing died down.

"Where's our reinforcements? Those other regulars should have been here by now," another soldier said.

"Here they come," a Tiger carrying a sniper rifle said.

"Okay, get down here rookie, we'll need to brief the troops on what we've seen so far," Peterson ordered.

"Roger that Sergeant," the young nineteen year old Red said, sliding down the steep grassy hill to join his comrades.

Right on time, a dozen standard Red Army troops walked over the hill that Z had just gotten down from. They all carried standard issue Battle Rifles as opposed to the Blues' love of the Battle Rifle. Their armor too was all standard Red Army red, which meant only one thing to the gathered Tigers, rookies. The new reinforcements strode up to the Tigers and parted like the Red Sea (pun intended) to let a Red Army Major through to talk to their red and blacked striped brethren.

"I'm Major Lawrence, who's in charge here?" the man grunted sternly.

"I am sir," Peterson stepped forward, holding his BR lazily on his shoulder, "Sergeant Peterson, Tiger Platoon."

"Then be advised I am taking over the assault. You men will follow my orders, is that clear?"

The gathered Tigers scoffed out loud at the arrogance displayed by the officer and didn't even acknowledge it. The Reds all had great respect for their NCO who had led them through thick and thin for nearly three months since their own CO and half their unit, had been killed at the hands of a swarm of Blues at Battle Creek. This was not what they had wanted at all but it would have to do, they were soldiers after all.

"Now we're gonna take this Base and destroy the Blues' Command in one fell swoop. Now here's what we're going to do…" the Major began, taking out a holo-map of the vast base of underground bunkers and garages next to a cliff with large communications dishes out in the distance. It was situated in the middle of plains of tall grasses which led to their base where the grass had been well trampled by foot and tire from the base personnel. It was quite a place to take on with just seventeen troops but it was all that Red Army could have mustered.

The Major went over a detailed but flawed plan to take the base but when it was all said and done, there was nothing that could have been done to stop him. They had orders, and those orders were now final. The Reds walked up the hill overlooking the base and started their approach. The Tigers would take the left and right flank with Z holding position on a rock outcropping just behind the advance that had a good line of sight on the route they would take on their attack. Meanwhile the rest of the Reds would rush right up the center of the base toward the main control building. Z got up into his perch, ready to go, he settled in between a pair of boulders and leaned back against the one on the left an cradled his rifle on the place where the two rocks met, deploying his bipod for better control. He could see the running forms of the Reds going straight toward the base, trails in the high grasses marked where they were as they came within range of the Base. Z scoped out the base, seeing not troops in blue as he'd expected but instead saw troops in gray wearing ODST helmets. They were rushing about, manning gun placements and pillboxes. It was at that time that they opened fire on his Red brethren. Tracers lanced out at the line of Reds that was exposed in the open ground that they had been put in by the Major as his stupid plan entailed. Big Z saw several of the Reds get riddled with bullets and fall including one of his own Tigers.

"NO!" he yelled curling his finger around the trigger and sighting in his rifle on the head of one of the gray troopers that held the trigger of a heavy machine gun down sending tracers out at the Reds and sent his own heavy anti-material round at his head. The bullet impacted his visor throwing him back and sending a mist of blood into the air and onto the machine gun in the process. Enraged, Z continued to fire away at the heavy MG's that tore into the Red formation, killing the gunners of several of the positions and any replacements brave enough to take up the gunner spot and fire at the now close Reds.

"Move up, move up God dammit!" the Major screamed from the rear of the formation as another of the Reds was killed by a grenade exploding under his feet. Z could see that the operation already doomed, dozens of gray troopers ran out into the fight from the underground buildings and attacked, losing many of their own to the now in place Reds who had taken cover behind a concrete roadblock.

"Major, we can't accomplish the mission, we have to fall back!" Peterson yelled back, not moving a muscle.

"We're going to take this place, even if I lose every last one of you!" the man screamed back in fury.

"Then you can do it without us!" Peterson replied, "if any of you guys want to come with us you're more than welcome."

The Tigers immediately started to pull back, running toward a ditch that led out of the area but was at least in cover. They had to dodge quite a bit of fire from the gray soldiers that continued to push forward with heavy weapons which the Reds lacked.

"If you leave I'll kill you myself!" the Major said angrily.

"Try it," Peterson said as the other Red regulars broke and ran, but two never made it, a rocket launcher hit the ground right behind them sending their bodies flying into the air and landed against the wall of a building they had been headed towards. The Major was left alone, pinned down behind a concrete barricade.

"You traitors, I'll have your heads for this!" then he did something that stopped the battle all together. He stood up and fired his pistol at the retreating forms of the Reds, killing two of his own men and then turned the weapon on Peterson who stood valiantly, firing his Shotgun at the gray soldiers and covering his comrades. The bullet him in the neck, and then he was hit several times in the chest and fell like a bag of potatoes. He was well and truly dead. Blood pooled all around him. His body twitched for a second then stopped.

"You son of a bitch!" the other Reds yelled but were then quickly were fired upon and had to fire back at the gray soldiers as they too retreated.

Then, enraged at what had befallen his mentor, his friend, Big Z aimed his rifle with one deadly purpose in mind. He sighted the crosshairs on the figure of the cowardly Major as he ran for his life towards the hill as bullets tore at the grass all around him. He fired his pistol blindly in an attempt to escape but he was aiming at the wrong area if he wanted to live.

"Die you son of a…" Z whispered as he pulled the trigger and sent a single lightning quick round downrange and saw the bullet impact the Major's chest and sent him flying backwards onto the ground, whiplashing his arms, legs, and head violently. Z grunted in satisfaction, but was immediately and quickly fired upon from all angles. He ducked as he saw numerous figures in a rainbow of colors on the hill below and around his hide. He was surrounded. In one last desperate and brave act he stood up, firing his sniper rifle as quickly as he could to draw these new attackers towards him. Bullets pinged all around his cover as he unloaded into the ranks of the half dozen attackers. Numerous others were also headed towards his comrades, now surrounded by the enemy that he had figured out who they were.

"Guys, they're Freelancers! Repeat they're Freelancers, get out of here!" he yelled as he ducked down as a shotgun wielding man in green armor ran at him. Z jumped back up and fired again, hitting him square in the chest and sent him crashing down as he was closed in on. He whirled around, firing again at a pair of purple armored soldiers carrying a sniper rifle and an assault rifle. His rifle was knocked out of his hands as it was shattered by the sniper round of the man in dark purple armor. Z pulled his own secondary weapon, his prized Automag, and fired away. The troops bobbed and weaved as he fired away, being sure to give them all a proper dose of his pistol as they charged at him, firing as they went. But as he ducked to reload he saw in the distance Red bodies flying as a person in black armor tore them apart. His own Tigers fought back, giving the other Reds time to escape but only got shot up by a white armored sniper. He felt his heart sink when one of his comrades fell with a knife to the visor and died. But they were all doomed, and he decided how he was going to go out, with a bang.

At that moment he saw the shadow of a Freelancer pop up and he rolled forward out of the area he'd been in and landed on the flat plateau of a rock on the edge of the cliff. He was quickly pounced on by a Freelancer in light purple armor carrying an assault rifle and was clubbed across the visor. He stumbled back, using his strength to keep him up on his feet. He lowered his shoulder and rammed the Freelancer, wrapping his arms around her thin frame picking her up and drove her into the ground, but he was kicked off quickly by the skilled woman and fell against a boulder across from the Freelancer, who now pulled a knife. In response Z did the same thing, yanking out his great grandfather's Bowie Knife. He was charged by the Freelancer who slashed at him and Z blocked the attack and spun, letting her momentum carry her forward, slashing as he went. But when he came back around his arm was caught by the larger of the purple and green Freelancers.

"I don't think so Red," the man's voice said though his speakers.

Big Z narrowed his eyes and prepared himself for the fight of his life. It was unheard of for a Red or Blue to fight a Freelancer one on one and live, but against two, it was regarded as the tales of a drunk and an overly sarcastic sailor who yapped about things such as sea monsters dragging ships to watery graves. But he was going to give it his best shot all the same.

But Big Z wasn't called 'Big' for no reason, he was as strong as they came, and now proved it to this Freelancer who stood straight up and made the mistake of not keeping a good center of balance. Z thrust himself up and into the equally sized Freelancer and quickly had him on his heels. Z felt him trip back and threw him back into the rocks and brought his knife over his head and prepared to deal a death blow. But he was thrown aside and slammed into the ground, forcing his helmet fall off and quickly got up. He saw that his gold visor was badly cracked from a vicious hit and left it be, standing up and resuming his fighting stance against the Freelancers attacking him. He saw the female Freelancer charging at him knife drawn and charged back. They collided as the Freelancer jumped and slashed downwards, forcing him to duck down and pull his Bowie knife up in defense, he felt the weight and attack of the woman force his guard down and consequently he felt the knife cut into his right cheek, drawing blood. He stumbled back as he felt the blood stream down his cheek and neck onto his armor and continued the losing fight. He felt himself forced back by the continuous attacks of the two Freelancers who brutally switched places on him, punching kicking and slashing at him. But he refused to go down despite the punishment that he was next to powerless to stop but gave back as well as he could, more than once landing a punch that drove one or the other back with the sheer force of the hit. But he soon found that his foot was an inch away from the edge of the cliff and certain death. Blood now ran freely, getting into Z's eyes as he struggled to stay on his feet.

"It's over Red," a man in green said, walking in between the two Freelancers in a lull in their death struggle. He held a shotgun at his side as blood ran down his chest from his sniper round hitting him.

"Not while I'm still standing," Z responded taking a renewed fighting stance, wiping the blood out of his eyes.

"Your team is dead. Every. Single. One. Of them," the man gloated, taking a step forward with each step.

"NO!" Z screamed.

In a lighting quick move he tossed his knife into the air and grabbed the tip and reeled back and threw it with every bit of force he could muster. The knife spun at the man at the speed of a rocket and hit him right in the neck. The blade and handle disappeared into the black material and Z saw the man fall to his knees and drop the shotgun as he finally died, landing on his face with the rock behind the two Freelancers holding the now embedded Bowie Knife. Falling to his knees in exhaustion Z could feel the agony of losing his team mates, his comrades, his friends sinking into him. He couldn't take it anymore, he had nothing to lose, nothing to hold him back. His feelings turned to rage as he looked up and saw that several other Freelancers of all colors now stood on the rocks holding weapons of all types, he saw them all standing and leaning, gloating at the Red. His strength now returned, fueled by rage that welled up in his gut and burned away all sense of judgment that would have forced him to surrender.

The one in dark purple saw this and quietly spoke into his speakers, trying to make him rethink what he was wanting to do.

"Don't do it," he pleaded evenly.

Z felt himself start to charge forward but then he felt a hard and powerful hit him in the back of the head, he fell forward and hit the hard sandstone and felt the dark close in as his eyes started to close. He twisted his head and put his arms under himself and started to twist to see who it was that had it him. He saw the imposing black figure that had killed his team and once again his rage welled up but as he started to lung out at the Freelancer he saw the fist of the black figure slam into his face. After that it was dark.

"Tough one isn't he?" Wyoming said in his British accent.

"Yeah, sure was, poor guy, last of his unit now."

"You're too soft with these Simulation Troopers North," Tex said as she walked away absently as North and South went to collect Delaware's tags.

"I can't believe he actually killed Delaware though, I mean look at that, the knife went clean through and lodged itself in that rock!" Theta piped up, appearing next to North.

"He was an idiot Theta, he had it coming for gloating to that kid when he did," South replied yanking the fallen agent's tags off and pocketing them. She also watched as several soldiers walked over to collect the large Red to be stuck in the brig for attacking Freelancer Command.

_Present _

It had been a while since Z had sworn vengeance and had been given one last chance as a soldier for shooting the Major the way he did. But he didn't care, all he knew was that he was still alive and there were a great many of his friends that were dead. But more importantly there were Freelancers who were alive. That was his biggest priority, he needed to avenge his comrades' deaths by finishing what he had started that day at Freelancer Command. He needed to exact the same toll on them as they did his own team. But revenge would come in time, first he had to regain the trust of Red Army. Which meant fighting the Blues and following orders from every damned officer he fell under.

The Pelican rocked to a halt as it started descending and Z looked out to see the Red Base that would now be home for the next few months. And he would meet the Reds there who would be his new team.

Boy would he be in for a surprise.

**And DONE. There we are, I think I broke the writer's block with this quick story. Thanks for reading and please Review so that I know I did alright. **


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